


Heavy Duty

by amcw177



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Established Relationship, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-28
Updated: 2016-09-28
Packaged: 2018-08-18 09:31:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8157373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amcw177/pseuds/amcw177
Summary: You mess with Keith's pants you mess with your happiness.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [Branch's](http://branch-and-root.tumblr.com/) prompt on Tumblr: _'Keith/Lance, tight jeans'_
> 
> I haven't written anything remotely sexual in like six years so please bear with me.
> 
> Many many thanks to [loadthebases](https://loadthebases.tumblr.com/) / doomcake for proofreading and cheering! <3

“Lance!”

Lance didn’t look up from his laptop. Keith usually only yelled his name on two occasions: in bed, and whenever Lance had fucked something up. Since Lance wasn’t in bed he assumed it was the latter, in which case he decided to keep quiet and see how that worked out.

“Lance, you useless garbage can!” Keith continued to scream, punctuated by a noise like he was dragging a dead body across the hallway.

Lance sighed and lazily turned around in his swivel-chair. His previous strategy was obviously not having the desired effect of a) having Keith naked and moaning in his bed and/or b) Keith miraculously forgetting to be pissed.

“What did I do now?” Lance asked; he paused when Keith waddled into the room, both legs stuck halfway down a pair of black jeans.

“You need help with that?” Lance said smugly before holding up a hand. “I have to warn you though. I know more about getting you _out_ of your pants than getting you back in.”

“ _You!_ ” Keith snarled, shaking his fist at Lance while staggering further into the room. He flopped down on the couch and started tearing his pants off. Then he chucked them at Lance’s face - with unexpected accuracy.

“What the hell did you do?” Keith shouted while Lance plucked the pair of jeans off his head. They smelled nice; freshly washed with a hint of Keith.

Lance inspected the pants, finding nothing wrong with them. “What’s your problem, munchkin? I thought you liked them nice and tight?” He grinned suggestively.

Keith shot him a death glare and got up, stomping over to Lance and grabbing the pants. He wiggled them in front of Lance’s face. “But not _kid sized_ , you buffoon!”

Lance watched in a detached sort of amazement how Keith held the pants against his legs, demonstrating the ill fit of his pants. The hem of the pant legs was just a few inches below Keith’s knees.

“You see this?” Keith complained. “You did this!”

Lance didn’t see how he could be held responsible for Keith’s wardrobe - or how it behaved. “I didn’t do anything.”

“You washed it too hot!”

Lance shrugged. “You left me no choice, man. There were grass stains on it.”

“You know goddamn well why it had grass stains,” Keith snarled, his hands twisting the fabric in a way that suggested he was imagining Lance’s neck instead.

Lance, however, was having a field day because, yes, he did remember that particular night and he was still fucking proud of it.

“I know,” Lance replied with a smug grin. “But I can’t help it if you buy your pants in the kids section. You never allow for some shrinkage, man.” He gesticulated wildly. “You’re like an orange. I have to peel you out of those pants every time. Honestly, I don’t understand how your dick hasn’t fallen off yet.”

Keith glanced down at himself and Lance quite enjoyed how all the blood in Keith’s head area suddenly seemed to be contained in his ears.

“For your information,” Keith intoned. “My dick is _fine_.”

Lance’s grin widened. “Oh, I know that too.”

It earned him a second helping of pants to his face.

\---

Keith was on fire that night. Lance had to up the Keith-getting-his-freak-on scale to eleven to even comprehend what was going on.

Then again, some things weren’t meant to be understood and Lance was quite alright with that; especially when Keith’s mouth was wrapped around his length like that.

Keith's fingers cleverly found all the sweet spots; along the dip of Lance’s pelvis, right down to the base of his dick. Lance could do nothing but arch his back and beg through moans and stuttered breath.

Somewhere along the line Lance’s brain had completely given up on words, which seemed to be much to Keith's delight. Lance didn't look (he couldn't; if he did he wasn't going to last another second), but he could feel Keith smirking against his heated skin.

What a bastard. First, Keith made such a hubbub about his pants and then he practically thanked Lance for it with a night of sexual wonders. Lance would have told him so if his vocal chords hadn't been busy making increasingly approving noises.

Lance was barely aware of the bunched up sheets he was clutching in his fists when Keith leaned in close and took him all the way in.

It was a revelation - if Lance had still been able to spell such a word. The tingling sensation in his belly intensified until it was almost the only thing he could feel. His fingers dug into the mattress, but it barely registered through the haze of imminent, blissful release.

Maybe that was why it took Lance a couple of seconds to notice the lack of movement downstairs. That is to say, Lance was moving plenty but when he looked up at Keith he found his partner doing nothing.

Well, that wasn't true either. Keith had his chin propped up on one hand, smiling, while the fingers of his other hand were circled around the base of Lance’s member.

“Bluh?” Lance managed. His brain took a while to mark current events down as worrying, but eventually it transpired that Keith was firmly keeping him from coming.

“What the hell?” Lance complained, bucking his hips for emphasis.

Sadly, if there was one thing Keith didn't respond well to it was demands. He tightened his grip just a tiny bit - enough to cause Lance to let out a needy little whine.

Lance was trying really hard to understand why he deserved this, but if reasoning had been hard before it was downright impossible now. He felt like he was chasing a train he didn’t know the destination of. As a result Lance decided to take the shortcut.

“Why are you like this?” Lance rasped.

Keith regarded him like one of his engineering experiments, which made Lance feel just a little uncomfortable. Keith's experiments had a tendency to crash into walls (the beta versions anyway).

Lance didn't know whether to be relieved or alarmed when Keith slowly settled down by his side, his grip on Lance’s dick barely faltering.

Once they were almost face to face and Lance had an excellent view of Keith's pleased grin Keith whispered, “You know, next time you wanna make a bet with Hunk about stealing one of the dean’s garden gnomes, _I’ll_ do the laundry afterwards.”

Lance felt his lips curl into a smirk (possibly a lethal reaction in this situation, but he couldn't help it). “So you’re saying you’d be up for a second try?”

Keith smiled. He ran his free hand through Lance’s damp hair and kissed his brow.

“Fuck you,” Keith murmured against Lance’s skin in the most loving tone Lance had ever heard coming out of his mouth.

Then he got up and left Lance lying on the bed with the hard-on of the century.

“Keith?” Lance tentatively asked the semi-darkness of their bedroom when Keith didn’t return. There was no response except for some ominous rustling and the telltale jingle of Keith’s favorite belt buckle.

“Ha-ha. Very funny,” Lance shouted. “Okay, I got your point. Now come back here and finish this!”

He listened, but all he could hear were footsteps in the hallway.

“Keith? My man? Please?”

The door fell closed and the apartment went dead quiet, except for the blood rushing in Lance's ears.

Lance sat up with a start, wincing when his dick gave him a painful reminder that things they were _not done here_. “Keith? Did you just-”

Surely Keith was just hiding somewhere in the dark, having his laugh. He wouldn't leave Lance like this. He was going to come back any minute now, full of himself, but happy to finish the job.

Right.

Lance waited another two minutes before he succumbed to his bodily needs. He threw himself back onto the sheets and stroked himself to completion without much finesse, but with the silent vow to wash _all of Keith's clothes_ on the highest setting next time.


End file.
